


Foreplay is a blade

by Deyaniera



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Kinktober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:00:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deyaniera/pseuds/Deyaniera
Summary: Tasha is mad at Clint and takes it out on him once their mission is complete.





	Foreplay is a blade

**Author's Note:**

> CW: mild violence, explicit M/F sex

            Clint enjoyed these events, where he could fade into the background and watch Tasha as she worked the room.  The benefit of being partnered to someone like her: he didn’t have to do much.  Look pretty and keep an eye on her.  He sipped the bubbly (too dry) and tried one of the hors d’ouevres (too saucy).  Then he slid along the wall, following her as she headed towards the curving staircase. 

            Tasha glanced over her shoulder, and something about the look caught Clint’s full attention.  She saw him, and smirked, and then headed up the stairs.  Clint watched her, knowing her too well not to see the exaggerated body English she was using. 

            “Tash, what are you doing?” Clint muttered to himself, before heading closer to the stairwell to flirt with an older woman wearing a fortune in jewels around her neck.  The back of his neck was prickling.  He extricated himself from the widow (with a new phone number) and looked around.  Tasha was leaning against the railing and smiled when she saw him looking. 

            Clint headed upstairs, following her against his own better judgment.  She casually pushed off the railing and headed down a hallway, opening the third door on the left and vanishing into the room.  He knew it was a ploy, he just didn’t know what kind of game Tasha was playing yet.

            He opened the door to a dark room.  “Tash?”  Nothing.  He knew she was there.  He felt the tightness in the pit of his stomach, and then a breath of air warned him.  He ducked, heard the whoosh of air from a fist, and then the door was slammed shut and he heard the click of a lock.  He put his back to a wall, between a tall chest of drawers and a window.  He was still half-blinded, but his eyes were adjusting at last.

            “I told you I’d pay you back,” Tasha purred.

            “You’re still mad about that?  We are on a mission!”

            “Our mission is complete.  In fact, I have the codes and the safe is in this very room,” she replied.  “Now…”

            Clint felt and heard the unmistakable sound of a knife cutting through the air as he carefully shifted, moving in front of the drawers.  His eyes adjusted at last, and he could make out Natasha’s white shoulders in the half-light of the room.   

            “It was an accident!”  Clint grumbled.  “I was trying to be nice.”

            “I’ll be nice,” Tasha replied, “if you apologize.”

            Clint snorted, and then leaped, tackling her to the floor and pinning the hand with the knife.  “I apologized twice,” he growled, careful to pin her legs with his feet. 

            “You didn’t mean it,” Tasha taunted, trying to squirm free. 

            Clint pinched the nerve in her wrist, forcing her to drop the knife.  He grabbed it, and then held it to her throat.  “I didn’t know it was your favorite sweater.”

            Tasha eyed him warily.  “It never came up, because you never do laundry!”

            “I was trying to help!”  She abruptly shoved him, and he was off balance enough that she managed to get free.  He scrambled to his feet and growled at her.  “Tasha.”

            “Clint.”  She curled her fingers in a ‘come on,’ gesture, and that was that.

            He didn’t usually fight dirty, but hell.  He slashed at her with the knife, aiming for the dress more than her.  She dodged, but some of his strikes managed to get through.  The bodice of the dress was in tatters, revealing the sheer black bra beneath.   

            “Now you’re just pissing me off,” Tasha muttered.

            “Am I?” Clint smirked and dropped to the floor for a leg sweep.  Tasha jumped over him, and he grabbed one leg and pulled her to the ground.  She landed on her stomach, hard, and he climbed on top of her, pinning her.  He ground his hard cock into her ass as he sliced through the straps on her dress.  “Now you know how I feel.”

            Tasha arched beneath him.  “Hmm.  That doesn’t feel pissed off to me.”

            Clint slid the knife into her gown, watching the material part.  “You pulled a knife on me.”  He made another slice in the gown, slid the knife deeper to cut through her strapless bra, then dragged the blade side lightly over her shoulder.  It was sharp enough that it left a thin red line in her skin.  He licked it, and she breathed in sharply.  “I think I have a right to—”

            Tasha squirmed, and the top of her dress parted, leaving her bare from the waist up.  She rolled to her back, facing him.  He lowered his head to her bare breasts, half-waiting for her to continue the fight.  Tasha slid her hands into his hair, and he closed his eyes as he kissed and licked her breasts, then sucked her nipples. 

            He leaned back and offered her the knife, knowing she had a sheath for it somewhere.  She smirked and took it, then hooked one finger under his collar and sliced his tie and shirt open.  Clint chuckled and shook his head, then leaned in and kissed her.  He meant for it to be passionate, a continuation of their fight.  But Tasha’s lips were soft, and her hands tangled in his hair again, and he found himself kissing her until she moaned against his mouth, and her hips writhed against him.

            Clint raised up and tore the dress the rest of the way open, and Tasha returned the favor by unbuckling his pants and peeling them off him.  She grasped his cock and he groaned at her touch.  She stroked him, and he could not move.  “Tasha,” he breathed.

            She pushed the remnants of his clothing off his shoulders and pulled him down to her, kissing him.  He reveled in the feeling of her breasts against his chest, her legs wrapping around him, pulling his cock against her wet pussy.  He ground against her, just to feel how wet she was.  She arched against him, and he took the invitation for what it was, sliding his cock into her.  He groaned, holding still for a moment, the pleasure so overwhelming he had to adjust.

            Tasha had no such need, she thrust herself against him, grinding, and he shuddered.  She moaned, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and fucked her hard.  She bit his neck, moaning against his skin, and he hissed in pain/pleasure. 

            She released him, her breath hot against his ear.  “Fuck me, Clint.  Fuck me hard!”

            He growled and thrust faster.  “You gonna come for me, baby?”

            “Oh god, yes,” she whispered, and he felt her thrusting back against him.  He groaned.  He wasn’t going to last much longer.  But then, she bit his shoulder and he felt her shuddering, coming hard.  He let go, letting the sensations overwhelm him, until he came too, collapsing atop her.  He felt his heart galloping in his chest, and he panted as he tried to come to his senses. 

            Tasha made a noise, and he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or annoyance.  He pushed up onto his hands.  “You ok?”

            “Mmm,” she purred.  “Much better.”

            “You going to forgive me for bleaching your sweater?”

            “Someday,” she said.  “Come on, we need to get the thumb drive and get out of here.”

            “Clothes?”

            “Your stuff is under the bed.”

            Clint rolled off her and stood up.  “You planned this entire thing?”

            Tasha looked entirely too smug.  “You’ve been too serious these last few missions.  Relax, Barton.  We got this.”

            Clint shook his head and gathered his clothes, smiling.   

 


End file.
